


inked into skin

by bluenorth



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Diners, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magical Realism, Not hockeys, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 23:10:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13134159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluenorth/pseuds/bluenorth
Summary: “So Jér is home?” Phil asks, and he knows he’s got no right to be angry, considering Zach doesn’t know why this is a big deal, but he feels like he’s been pushed off a cliff.





	inked into skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimerai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimerai/gifts).



> Dear Aimee,
> 
> I hope you had a wonderful holiday season, and Happy 2018? Maybe this will help kick the year off right. As someone who loves a good rare pair and knows the pain of having too little fic to enjoy, I decided to write you Jér/Phil. I had no idea who they were before I checked your Dear Author letter, but the more I read up on them, the more I liked them. I hope I didn’t butcher their characterization too much here. I loved working on this and hope you’ll enjoy it <333
> 
> Many thanks to my lovely beta, M & R, and to everyone on my timeline who helped me along with their encouragement and love!

Phil enjoys working the morning shift. He doesn’t mind getting up early, and once the rush of people on their way to work has passed, the diner goes comfortably quiet. There’s a few of their regulars having their regular breakfast, but mostly Phil gets to read at the counter and bother Zach when he’s helping out in the kitchen. It’s much better than lunchtime, and he prefers having his evenings free for other stuff, so he works mornings whenever he can.

He’s just getting back from the kitchen when he sees the Johnson’s — arguably the most adorable old couple in the world — walk in. They settle into their usual booth and Phil walks over to take their order. He knows it by heart, but he grabs his notepad anyway, mostly out of habit.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees words appear on the empty top page of it, written in a hand he knows all too well.

_avo toast, eggs w side of bacon_  
_big cup of coffee_  
_coming in at 11_

Something heavy settles in Phil’s stomach. He waves at the Johnsons, tells them he’ll be with them in a minute, and walks right back through to the kitchen.

Zach looks at him in surprise when Phil holds the notepad up in front of his face.

“So Jér is home?” he asks, and he’s got no right to be angry, considering Zach doesn’t know why this is a big deal, but he feels like he’s been pushed off a cliff.

“Uh, yeah?” Zach says, “I thought you knew?” He looks at Phil, a little confused, and Phil wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“I didn’t,” he says with a shrug, like it’s nothing. “The Johnsons are here,” he adds by way of distracting Zach, who nods immediately.

“So blueberry pancakes and fried eggs with bacon?” Zach asks and Phil gives him a thumbs up.

“Also this,” Phil says and rips the page with Jér‘s handwriting on it off his notepad to leave with Zach. It’s 10:50 AM and if Jér is on time that gives Phil just a few minutes to prepare for seeing him again.

 

#

 

Phil meets Jér in his first class on his first day at his new school in Val-d’Or. He’s the new kid and the only free seat is next to Jér, who smiles at Phil, exposing a small gap between his two front teeth, and says, “Hi, I’m Jéremy.”

Phil has some trouble keeping up in class because his French isn’t good enough yet, and their teacher seems intent on testing how much he knows. He feels terrible and being put on the spot never worked for him at all, so he stumbles his way through a few answers and gets most of them wrong.

Phil tries to keep his head down, stares at the pages of the history book in front of him. He still gets called on again and has no idea what the answer is, until it shows up in the margins of his book, scribbled down quickly in ugly but thankfully legible handwriting.

Phil stares at it for a second, but when the teacher says his name again, clearly unwilling to let him get away without a reply, he reads the words out loud and it must have been the right answer, because he’s left alone afterwards.

He glances sideways, at Jér’s notes, and finds the same handwriting there.

Phil has never met anyone with a level of magic similar to his. His parents have a little, but it’s barely enough to make a dying flashlight battery last a few hours longer. All his friends back home didn’t have much either, except for Nolan, who could make light objects fly, but nothing else.

Phil picks up a pen and writes, _thank you_ , in his notebook. He hears a small gasp come from Jér when it appears on his notes, too. Phil glances sideways again and finds Jér looking at him, eyebrows raised. Phil shrugs and smiles, and Jér’s face changes into a bright grin.

That’s all it takes, really, for them to become friends.

 

#

 

As it turns out, ten minutes is not nearly enough time to emotionally prepare yourself for seeing your best friend again, not after three months of radio silence. Phil has no clue what to say or do here and he still hasn’t figured it out when Jér shows up.

He looks different. His hair is shorter and his clothes seem different, somehow, but when he smiles, that tooth gap is still there. He pulls Phil into a quick bro-hug.

“Dude, it’s so good to see you,” Jér says as he sits down at the counter.

“Yeah, you too,” Phil says, because apparently they are going to pretend that everything’s fine. Phil’s not even sure if he wants that, but what is he gonna do, cause a scene in the middle of the Lauzon’s diner and make everyone in it uncomfortable?

He gets Jér’s coffee and sets it down in front of him. “Your food should be right up. Zach’s working the kitchen today, so I can’t guarantee it’ll actually be good,” Phil says, loud enough for Zach to hear it in the back.

“Shut up, I’m an excellent cook,” Zach yells, and Jér laughs.

Phil has missed his laugh, god, he’s missed him, everything about him, and he doesn’t understand why Jér never got in touch, never wrote words into Phil’s skin the way he always used to, but maybe it’s not worth finding out. Maybe they can just go back to being friends.

“How long are you gonna be home for?” Phil asks, fussing with the salt and pepper shakers on the counter for lack of something better to do with his hands.

“Just until after New Year’s,” Jér says, “so that gives me lots of time to kick your ass at the new NHL.”

“You wish,” Phil says, because Jér has never been able to beat him at video games, ever, and if he suddenly starts winning now, Phil is gonna call magical cheating.

He’s actually curious to see what they’ve taught Jér at the Academy in Rouyn, in the time since they last saw each other. Sometimes he wishes he could have gone too. Maybe things would be different, then.

 

#

 

“What do you mean, you’re not applying?” Jér asks from where he’s spread out on the living room couch. Phil’s parents are out of town for the weekend, so they’re making the most of their freedom by watching TV, playing PS4 and eating junk food.

And, apparently, talking about their future.

“I’m not gonna get in anyway, Jér,” Phil says with a shrug. He’s not too torn up about it, really. He doesn’t have enough magic to study it and that’s fine. So few people have a shot at it, and he never thought of himself as particularly special in that regard.

Jér is, though. He is special.

“Dude, you’ve got at least as much magic as I do,” Jér says, nudging Phil’s leg with his foot.

Phil laughs at that. “That’s not true, and you know it. I saw you make those cigs disappear when your mom walked in, and I sure as hell can’t turn things invisible.”

“You don’t have to turn things invisible to get into Rouyn-Noranda,” Jér says, and that’s true, but Phil still doubts he has a shot at this. “Imagine how cool it would be if we could go together,” Jér goes on.

It’s not like Phil hasn’t thought about that. It’s not like it wouldn’t be incredibly cool to learn how to use his magic properly, especially because he has no clue what else to do with his life.

“At least apply, Phil, come on,” Jér says. Phil knows it’s a bad idea, he does, but Jér is looking at him with a lot of determination in his eyes and Phil figures he won’t be getting out of this.

“Fine, but I’m telling you, they’re not gonna take me,” he says.

Jér rolls his eyes. “You’re putting your application in right now,” he decides, and gets up to find Phil’s laptop.

They go to Rouyn together, a few weeks later, for the official assessment of their magical capabilities. It takes less than five minutes for the committee to decide that Phil is not suitable for the Academy. Phil isn’t surprised, but his chest still feels weirdly hollow while he waits for Jér to finish his assessment.

Jér comes out of the examination room with a bright smile on his face and Phil hugs him, too tight.

“How’d yours go?” Jér asks. He sounds hopeful, eyes searching for Phil’s.

Phil always knew this was going to be the worst part: the look on Jér’s face when Phil tells him he didn’t get in.

 

#

 

It’s weird, having Jér back. Phil had just gotten used to not having him in his life, and now he’s suddenly back, hanging out at the diner with Phil and Zach, dragging Phil out to the movies in the middle of the afternoon and inking short messages into the inside of Phil’s palm.

On Saturday, Phil wakes up hideously early to the words _meet me at the pond at 8_ scribbled across the ceiling above his bed. That can only mean one thing, and he scrambles out of bed and doesn’t bother taking a shower before he goes to find his skates and his stick. His mom insists he have breakfast before he leaves, so he wolfs down a sandwich before he leaves the house.

It’s freezing outside, everything covered in a fresh layer of snow that won’t be melting away anytime soon, and Phil can barely feel his cheeks by the time he makes it to the pond on the outskirts of their neighborhood. He finds Jér already skating, stickhandling a puck to get a feel for it. Phil whistles to get his attention and Jér waves at him with a big smile on his face.

Phil joins him once he’s got his skates on. The sun has only just come up, and no one besides them is here. The ice is still perfect, but it won’t be a couple of hours from now when every kid in the neighborhood has left traces on it.

“How’d you know it would be ready today?” Phil asks as he takes the puck from Jér and glides backwards, dragging it along with his stick.

Jér hums. “Just a feeling,” he says, but Phil thinks there’s more to it, something that Jér isn’t saying.

Jér doesn’t talk about the Academy much. He doesn’t mention it without being prompted, and then he never gives proper answers when Phil asks. Phil has given up on it; if Jér wants to keep his secrets, then that’s fine.

“Zach didn’t want to come?” Phil asks, because they used to do this together, him and the Lauzons.

“Too lazy to get up early on a Saturday,” Jér says with a shrug.

“You’re lucky I woke up at the crack of dawn,” Phil says, passing the puck to Jér, who stops it easily.

“Yeah, lucky,” Jér says, mischief glinting in his eyes, and Phil gets it, then.

“You woke me up!”

“Sorry,” Jér says, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

“That’s so rude,” Phil says and skates towards Jér to get the puck back, but Jér quickly moves it out of the way and takes off, Phil hot on his heels, trying to catch up. He tries to get the puck away from Jér with a poke check, but his stick ends up caught in Jér’s skate.

Jér loses his balance and falls near the edge of the pond, and Phil can’t react quickly enough to skate around him, so he lands half on top of Jér, catching some of his weight with his hands so Jér doesn’t get crushed underneath him.

“Fuck, sorry!” Phil says, but Jér is laughing and wiggles out from under Phil, only to pin him to the ice and exact his revenge by scooping up some snow and dumping it on Phil’s face.

“Two minutes for tripping, loser,” Jér says while snow falls past Phil’s scarf and melts against his skin. He brings his hands up to get the snow out of his eyes at least, and he can’t help but laugh at the triumphant look on Jér’s face.

That’s until he notices that Jér is basically straddling him, and that he’s leaning down, and Phil can’t deal with this again, he just can’t — so he grabs a handful of snow himself and slaps it against the side of Jér’s face. Jér yelps, taken by surprise; Phil takes the opportunity to push him off and get up, get some distance between them.

 

#

 

There’s a going away party for Jér on one of the last, nicer days of summer. It’s warm and sunny, but the leaves will start turning soon enough, and Jér will be gone even before that.

It’s not like Rouyn is that far from Val-d’Or, they can see each other all the time. He'll start working at the Lauzons diner soon, but he’ll have time off and Jér is going to come home on weekends, so the whole farewell party seems like a bit much.

It's a great excuse to get very drunk, though, especially once evening turns into night and the grown-ups leave them to their own devices. Jér has a lot more friends than Phil, or rather, they're friends with Phil because he's friends with Jér. It's the last chance they all get to hang out together for a while; nobody else is going to the Academy, but some of them are leaving for Montréal and Toronto and Québec. Phil's not sure how much time he'll spend with those who are sticking around.

It feels like the end of a lot of things, because it is. There's really no reason for it to catch Phil by surprise, but it does. It makes him sad, and wonder if maybe he should have tried to get into college somewhere, to study anything even if he's got no clue what to do with his life. Instead, he'll be stuck in Val-d'Or, living with his parents.

He doesn't want to be sad in that moment, because being sad at his best friend's goodbye party would be extremely lame. That's why he drinks a lot more than he usually would.

He's never been so drunk in his life and that is definitely why he pulls Jér away from the party, when it's barely a party anymore, just a couple of people sitting around a fire sharing dumb stories from when they were all a little bit younger.

It's why, when they reach the edge of the woods where they’re far away from the others, he pulls Jér into a tight hug and doesn't let go.

The beautiful thing is that Jér doesn't move an inch once his arms are wrapped around Phil's waist. He leans his head against Phil's shoulder and they breathe together, nothing else, and it feels like maybe decades are passing them by instead of mere minutes, and Phil doesn't want anything but this.

"I wish you could come, too," Jér whispers quietly and Phil's heart aches. He wishes, too, wishes he could spend every day with Jér, wouldn't mind if it was forever, but even drunk as he is that's not something he can say.

He kisses Jér instead and Jér doesn't even hesitate for a second before he's kissing Phil back, uncoordinated and too sloppy, but perfect because it's Jér.

It only lasts a few short heartbeats, until someone calls Jér's name and it makes both of them jump. Jér smiles at Phil nervously and Phil doesn't know what to say.

"Maybe we should-" Jér says and motions back towards where they can see the fire burning near the barbecue spot by the lake.

"Yeah," Phil says, feeling breathless and giddy and like the world has shifted on his axis, a little bit.

 

#

 

Phil's at home on Christmas Eve, watching TV with his mom while they wait for his dad to get home from work, when an order of a cheeseburger and fries appears on his left wrist, in Jér's nearly illegible handwriting.

Phil grabs a pen and writes back, _not working tonight, make your own food_ , and watches as the words fade from his skin almost instantly, the twinge that always comes with it unfamiliar because it’s been months since the last time he did this. There’s no one else he would send these messages to.

_what r u doing?_

Phil writes a reply and sees his mom watching him with a smile on her lips. “How’s Jéremy?” she asks. Phil remembers a lot of questioning looks thrown his way whenever he shrugged at the question over the past few months.

“He’s good,” he says now. Jér hasn’t changed much, but Phil still couldn’t tell anyone if Jér is happy in Rouyn, or if he likes being there.

“I’m glad you two are talking again,” Phil’s mom says and Phil doesn’t know what to say to that so he just nods.

_come by the diner later?_

Phil doesn’t bother asking his mom if it’s okay, because his parents always go to bed early, and he may still be living at home, but he’s 18 years old so he can do what he wants.

 _yeah sure,_ he replies.

He sneaks out later with a badly wrapped present tucked under his arm. It’s not far to the Lauzon’s diner, so Phil walks even though it is freezing and he forgot his gloves. When he steps into the diner, its warmth bites at the cold skin of his fingers and makes it burn.

There aren’t any patrons left at this time on Christmas eve and all the tables have been wiped, chairs put up on them. Only the lights in the back are still on, so Phil slips behind the counter and walks into the kitchen. He can hear Christmas music playing quietly and finds Jér cooking something that smells interesting.

Phil had kind of forgotten that Jér used to cook at the diner all the time.

“Hey bud,” Phil says, places the present on the countertop and dumps his jacket on a chair in a corner.

“You got me something?” Jér asks with a grin and moves the pan off the stove before he picks up the present, holds it up to his ear and shakes it.

Phil rolls his eyes. “It’s nothing special, just, uh. Remember that art supply shop we saw, that had these colors you liked so much?”

“Oh,” Jér says, sounding surprised. He rips the wrapping paper off the present.

It’s not the largest set they had because that was still too expensive when Phil got it a couple of months ago. His original plan had been to buy more colors once he got a job, but without knowing where he and Jér stood, that seemed like a bad idea. Still, it’s a good selection and it seemed like something Jér really wanted at the time. Now, he’s not so sure if Jér still paints at all, but he didn’t want to just let the colors go to waste.

To Phil’s relief, Jér says, “Can’t believe you remembered this, dude. It’s so great, thank you!” For a second, Phil thinks maybe he’s going in for a hug. He doesn’t, but he’s beaming at Phil happily and asks, “Are you hungry?”

Phil isn’t, really, but he’s never said no to food in his life, so he nods. “Leftover mix and match?” he asks. He’s been to more than one late dinner at the diner that included truly questionable culinary creations made from all the perishable foods available in the kitchen.

“You bet,” Jér says and grins. “First course: pasta with every vegetable I could find and like three different kinds of cheese.”

“We’ve had much worse,” Phil says, laughing, and gets two plates out.

 

#

 

Phil’s not sure what’s supposed to happen once you’ve kissed the guy you’ve wanted to kiss for about three years. He’s hungover, which could be one explanation for the bad feeling in his stomach, but he’d  be kidding himself if he tried to pretend it’s not because Jér hasn’t been in touch at all.

Jér could still be sleeping off his own hangover. It’s more likely that he’s frantically packing everything he’ll need, so he’s probably too busy to wax poetic about Phil’s kissing. Phil doesn’t need sonnets about his lips, though. All he needs is some sign that he didn’t _dream_ that kiss.

Phil drags himself out of bed and into the shower. The hot water makes him feel somewhat closer to human and once he’s found the aspirin in the kitchen and taken some, he decides he’s ready to face Jér.

The sun is too bright for his tired eyes and his snapback doesn’t provide enough protection. He regrets leaving his sunglasses behind.

He walks past the diner, which is normally only closed on holidays, but since Jér’s parents are both driving with him to Rouyn, they’ve made an exception. Their house is only a few streets away and when Phil gets there, he doesn’t see the Lauzon’s bright, red truck in the driveway.

The unease he’s been feeling all morning settles in his chest, then. He rings the doorbell anyway, but nobody answers, so  Zach must have gone with them, too.

He gets the sharpie he always carries in the back pocket of his jeans and sits down on the porch step.

 _did u guys leave already?_ he writes on the inside of his arm. The words disappear quickly.

Jér replies almost instantly: _yes sorry! mom was stressing. left 10 mins ago._

Phil stares at the empty driveway and curses himself for not getting up early and for having terrible timing altogether. He had all this time to maybe let Jér know how he felt, and now he’s gone and Phil has no idea where they stand.

 _I’ll let u know when we get there,_ Jér writes.

 _ok cool :)_ Phil writes back, but the smiley face is a big fat lie.

 

#

 

Phil doesn’t care much for the whole concept of celebrating the new year, but it’s mostly alright because he’s just getting drunk with his friends. The problem is, he isn’t very drunk at all when it’s suddenly time to go out to count down the seconds and watch the fireworks.

Everyone else is already outside and Phil can’t find his goddamn shoes.

“Just come now,” Jér says, waiting impatiently by the door.

“I’m not going outside in socks!” Phil protests, because it’s cold and there’s snow and he like shaving all ten of his toes.

“We’re gonna miss it,” Jér says, pulling at the hood of Phil’s jacket. It nearly makes Phil lose his balance, so he stands up to glare at Jér.

“Just help me look-“

Outside, fireworks are going off and he can hear their friends cheering.

“Happy New Year, I think,” Jér says and Phil’s about to apologize and risk the integrity of his toes in favor of actually seeing some fireworks, but Jér just hugs him in the hallway and Phil thinks it’s remarkable really, how well they fit together like this.

“Happy New Year, Jér,” he mumbles and hugs Jér as close as he can, only for a moment, before he pulls back.

Jér’s not letting go, though. His arms are still wrapped around Phil and his face is very close. Trying to focus in on it makes Phil cross-eyed. He’s too warm in his thick jacket, the fireworks seem far too loud and Jér is leaning in. It’s the second time in the span of three days that this is happening and it would be so easy to allow himself this.

Easy and stupid.

“Uh, we should go outside,” he says quickly and disentangles himself from Jér.

Jér frowns at him, and then he shrugs. “What about your shoes?” he asks.

Phil looks around the hallway and suddenly sees them, half pushed under the wardrobe where he couldn’t spot them before.

“Got ‘em,” Phil says, glad there’s nothing keeping him from putting on his shoes and dragging Jér outside, where there’s other people and he can ignore his treacherous heart that wishes he was less afraid of getting hurt again.

 

#

 

It has been three whole days since Jér has left. He hasn’t been in touch and Phil is trying hard not to read anything into it. He tells himself that Jér must be busy with his classes, getting used to his new home and making new friends.

That thought doesn’t make Phil want to punch something at all.

He finds himself checking his arms and hands all the time for a sign of Jér’s words. There’s never anything there for him to read, no dumb joke or doodle or anything.

On day four, Phil caves and scribbles a quick _hi, how’s hogwarts?_ on his arm. The words linger there and Phil frowns, scrubs at them, because they’re never visible for more than a second. Now, it takes close to a minute for them to disappear.

There’s no reply, so he tries again the next day: _hey bud, everything okay?_ Again, he has time to read the message over and over before it disappears, and he doesn’t hear back from Jér, still.

 _Jér, are you there?_ he writes next, and just _???_ the day after. He’s getting tired of this, of the awful feeling in his chest that stays with him throughout the day and is worst when he’s alone with his thoughts.

He does some research to figure out why it’s taking so long for his messages to disappear. He doesn’t find an exact answer for their mode of communication, but reads  a lot about how it’s possible to put up barriers to stop others from contacting you through magic.

That must be it. There’s no other good explanation for what is happening. Phil could easily circumvent it by calling Jér or sending him a text, but it’s pretty clear that Jér isn’t interested in what Phil has to say, and it’s not hard to figure out why.

Phil never would have thought that Jér would deal with his regrets this way. If Jér wants to be left alone, that’s fine; Phil was obviously wrong, but he always thought their friendship was strong enough to withstand anything.

The heartbreak sucks, there’s no sugar coating it, but Phil always expected to be turned down. He was prepared for heartbreak.

He was never prepared for how much worse it would feel to lose his best friend.

 

#

 

Phil’s wakes up hideously early the day after New Year’s to the soft tingling of words being written into his skin. _I’m outside_ , they say, no explanation as to why. Phil’s so tired that he just ignores them and tries to go back to sleep, but when he shuts his eyes and pulls the covers up higher, he finds himself inexplicably awake.

_It’s fucking cold, let me in!_

Phil groans as he crawls out of bed and tiptoes downstairs so he won’t wake up his parents. Jér pushes past him immediately when he opens the door, and he brings in a gust of cold air that makes Phil shiver. He closes the door quickly.

“You’re so hard to wake up,” Jér grumbles, “It took like 20 minutes.”

Phil blinks at him. “You could just stop messing with my sleep, you know,” he says, because he doesn’t feel particularly sorry for Jér. “You’re using your powers for evil. Is that what they teach you in Rouyn?”

“I’m going back today and I needed to talk to you,” Jér says, as if that is a justification for robbing Phil of his much needed rest.

“Your bus leaves in 8 hours, dude. What the hell is so important that it couldn’t wait until like, 9 am?”

Jér opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything. The silence grows between them and Phil guesses they’re finally going to talk about all the things they haven’t been saying. He’s not nearly awake enough for it and Jér looks like he’s a bit out of his depth, too.

“Jér?” Phil asks, carefully.

“Okay,” Jér says, runs a hand through his hair and makes a frustrated sound. “Just, fuck, Phil. What the fuck.”

“Uh,” Phil says, not quite sure what he’s supposed to do with that.

“You just fucking stopped. You stopped talking to me,” Jér says, low and sad.

“What?” Phil asks, indignant at the accusation. “I didn’t stop talking to you, you never replied to my messages!”

Jér stares at him, confusion plain to see on his face. “What messages?”

“I wrote you all the time. I didn’t hear from you when you left, so I wrote you, and you never—”

“I wrote you. The first night there, and every day after.”

“The messages didn’t go through,” Phil says, because if Jér didn’t block his messages, what else could it be? He knows Jér isn’t lying, and he’s not lying either.

Jér nods, looking thoughtful. “I think maybe our magic just isn’t strong enough for this kind of distance?”

“My magic probably isn’t,” Phil says.

“Mine might not be, either. Not yet, anyway, or I should have at least been able to reach you,” Jér explains. Phil supposes Jér’s theory might be sound, but he doesn’t care much about the explanation right now. All his own assumptions were flawed and there’s a thing or two he may have to reconsider.

“So. It wasn’t because of the kiss?” Phil asks, and the way Jér is looking at him makes his stomach feel all fluttery.

“No. God, no,” Jér says quickly. He takes a step towards Phil with a hesitant smile on his lips. “I thought maybe you forgot. You were pretty drunk.”

Phil takes a step towards Jér, almost involuntarily. “I didn’t forget. Don’t think I ever will,” he mumbles. Jér’s smile spreads to his eyes at that and he reaches out to pull Phil closer.

“You should have let me kiss you at midnight,” Jér says. His hands come to a rest on Phil’s hips and Phil wishes he’d started the year like this.

“Maybe you should kiss me now,” he says, heart beating hard in his chest.

“Yeah, maybe if you shut up, I will,” Jér says and Phil couldn’t say anything more even if he wanted to, because Jér’s mouth is already sweet and soft on his and it’s the best thing in the world.

 

#

 

Jér texts him for the first time, later that day when Phil is at work.

**JLauz ❤️:** _this is weird_

Phil has to agree with him. It’s strange not to see Jér’s words in his handwriting; Phil’s not used to reaching for his phone when he wants to talk to him. It definitely beats not talking to each other at all, though.

_we’ll get used to it_

**JLauz ❤️:** _my roommate wants to know who I’m texting_

Phil doesn’t understand the problem, exactly. He also doesn’t know anything about Jér’s roommate.

_so? just tell him?_

**JLauz ❤️:** _can i say it’s my boyfriend?_

Phil grins and he probably looks like a maniac, but he doesn’t care. The diner is pretty much empty, so there’s no one to see it.

_yes, dumbass_

**JLauz ❤️:** _mean!!!_

_too bad u can’t be mad at me_

**JLauz ❤️:** _true_  
JLauz ❤️: _i miss u_  
**JLauz ❤️:** _when r u coming to visit_

_as soon as your parents give me time off!!_

**JLauz ❤️:** _i’ll pull some strings_

_thanks so much, babe_

**JLauz ❤️:** _nick wants to see a pic of u_  
**JLauz ❤️:** _i’ll need at least 10_  
**JLauz ❤️:** _also nudes_

Phil loves him so much, him and his endless strings of words. They may not be be inked into his skin anymore, but Phil quickly finds that their magic was never the most important part of them anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <333
> 
> Bonus things that didn’t make the cut:
> 
> \- They find out that Jér’s magic has gotten strong enough to send Phil messages again when Jér is doodling ‘I love you’ in his notebook at uni and it shows up on Phil’s arm all the way in Val-d’Or.  
> \- Like a year after they start dating, they go back to the lake and find the tree they first kisses under. It turns out that all of Phil’s messages that didn’t go through are carved into its bark because they had to go somewhere.  
> \- Jér wonders what happened to his messages and keeps an eye out in Rouyn, but he doesn’t find them until he graduates and clears out his desk. They’re all in a fancy notebook Jér gave him as a gift at his goodbye party.  
> \- Jér and Phil never kiss at midnight on NYE. They always kiss at ass-o’clock in on New Year’s Day, even if they just go back to sleep off their hangover after.


End file.
